Under the Golden Sun and Silver Moon: A Tribute
by Piro-chan
Summary: A poem in tribute to the wonderful and astonishing land of Johto. Written in anticipation of Heart Gold and Soul Silver


Hello, everyone. It's been a while since I posted anything on here, so I figured I'd put this up. I'll be honest -- I don't really have any intent to continue writing my story "Golden Smile and Silver Tears". Not because I don't like the concept (I've actually had it entirely planed out for a long time now), but because I just don't have the time. Graduation and all. So I sincerely apologize to my few readers. However, I will post this short piece for anyone who is interested.

**About the Poem: **

On October 8th 2009, I sat down and decided to write something that was very close to my heart and probably should have been written down a long time ago. With the Japanese release of the remakes of Gamefreak's phenomenal games, Pokemon Gold, Silver and Crystal, just passed, I knew that - while waiting for the North American versions to be released - it was time to pay homage to the games that no doubt helped shape the person I am today. It may sound totally ridiculous, but these games are the biggest part of me; my "Heart" and "Soul", if you will. They have sparked my imagination and creative spirit on a daily basis for the past fourteen years, they encouraged my love of nature, the outdoors, exercise, adventure and so much more. Gold and Silver are without a doubt the very fibre of my being and I am not afraid to admit it. So, without further ado, I present to you my very inadequate and humble tribute to the region of Johto (Jouto-chihou), the land that captured my heart so many years ago, and still holds it tight.

This poem is dedicated to the great Satoshi Tajiri and the extremely talented Ken Sugimori, both of whom constructed my childhood. But, first and foremost, this poem is dedicated to a certain six people. You know who you are.

All my love,

_- Robyn_

**Under the Golden Sun and Silver Moon**

_Route 29._

_"Where the Winds of New Beginnings Blow",_

_Carry me to the Cherrygrove,_

_A grassy midpoint between the coast,_

_And the first trial of many,_

_A Violet obstacle beneath a swaying beam._

_Appropriate to start here, possibly?_

_Slowly careening through ancient temples,_

_Savoring the first victory and racing down a redbrick road,_

_Sea breeze dancing as fishing-lines fly._

_And then Darkness._

_Sore feet wandering through a chasm of abyss,_

_A man breathes fire,_

_And suddenly it is light,_

_Until falling down the old well,_

_Azalea flowers gently descending onto a motionless form._

_Protect those who cannot protect themselves,_

_And scuffle in an indoor forest,_

_Riddled with insects and disease._

_Escape this man-made wood only to enter a natural one,_

_Illusions cast from trees make anything seem small,_

_Especially the useless shrine;_

_A wooden box concealing brilliant gold and stunning silver._

_The false visions end with the assaulting sounds of radio signals,_

_A bullet train,_

_And frenzied, Sunday shoppers._

_"Follow the Yellow Brick Road" to flashing lights,_

_And abandon your morals,_

_Along with your cash,_

_Throw them away to the underground._

_Victory comes again as a crying girl refuses to give recognition,_

_Until she is reminded._

_Up ahead,_

_Children run through flowery fields,_

_And Wyrms lie in wait,_

_To sting their ankles,_

_They are soon caught with nets and set straight,_

_And shiny rocks and sweet fruit are the captor's reward._

_But here,_

_Laying among smoldering ashes,_

_Exists something different._

_Where Tin and Brass once stood proudly;_

_A visage to those truly omnipotent,_

_Now all but one remains,_

_The other lost beneath Silver Tears._

_But Rainbow Wings of resurrection have given birth,_

_To Thunder,_

_Water,_

_And Fire._

_Together, they awaken and run,_

_Death not limiting them any further._

_The Heart of Life perches atop his tower,_

_Content with his works,_

_He awaits the day that Purity will emerge from a forested path._

_On the streets below,_

_Five young woman dance elegantly,_

_As a graceless monster accompanied by an elderly man watch in awe._

_Illuminated red, paper lanterns signal the coming of night,_

_Calling Specters and Demons to flood the historic streets._

_And the Waterfall roars._

_It is ignored._

_Instead, attention is drawn to the sea._

_A light pierces the dark and a ship horn sounds._

_A young woman's scream is heard when the light flickers and dies._

_Her people protect her,_

_And she protects the light._

_She is their savior;_

_Clad in steel with Olive skin,_

_She smells of oranges._

_A trip,_

_There and back,_

_Across the treacherous sea,_

_Sees the light shine again._

_Repayment is given in the form of iron blows,_

_Eventually yielding a metallic gem._

_Unique,_

_But uniform all the same,_

_It is added to the pile._

_Three, frothy islands,_

_Guarded by fallen Brass,_

_And Wings similar to those of Life,_

_Are often overlooked,_

_No matter how important,_

_In favor of sandy beaches,_

_Flecked with blood,_

_From focused fists._

_And suddenly soaring,_

_Far over these islands,_

_Returning to the home of Iridescent feathers,_

_Only to leave in a rage._

_An Epic will be told of a battle against a great, Scarlet Serpent,_

_Born from the depths of the sea,_

_Take a red scale from the surface of the lake,_

_And spill the blood of a crooked shopkeeper,_

_With the aid of someone held in high regard._

_But there is no warmth in this jubilation._

_A frozen blizzard chills to the very core,_

_And evil returns tenfold._

_Beneath yellow bricks;_

_Beyond happy Sunday shoppers,_

_A man sits,_

_Gagged and bound,_

_There is no ally in this fray,_

_Only interference,_

_Like static on an old radio._

_Heavier in heart,_

_Navigate an icy path,_

_And arrive at a familiar place,_

_Yet,_

_A place never visited before._

_A place where people,_

_Like that man held high,_

_Are raised in abundance;_

_Brought up against the dragon's fang._

_A victory here –_

_A momentous occasion,_

_Is stifled by bitter disbelief,_

_And one more challenge must be overcome._

_A Blackthorne in a beautiful, crimson rose;_

_One more challenge will always rise out of a victory._

_Jump the rocky ledges,_

_Weeds dicing at flesh,_

_To find you've come full circle._

_In much too short a time,_

_Another journey has begun._

_Silver Tears and Rainbow Wings sing through the valleys,_

_Sing through the caves,_

_Through temples,_

_And clearings._

_They cry through lonely city nights,_

_Cry through repressed villainy,_

_And through death._

_But there is always rebirth._

_Leave this place for another adventure,_

_And they will surely call you back._

_**Fin.**_

_

* * *

_

**A.N: **There's something about Johto that's just indescribable. It's not just an 8-bit map -- it's not even a place. It's a living, breathing organism. I've always thought of Kanto and Johto like a werid, paradoxical father and son. Kanto, while coming first chronologically, seems much younger than Johto. When I think of Kanto, I automatically picture Celadon City, back alley ways, motorcycles, Greasers, Mechanics, Scientists and Gamblers; it has a very eighties kind of feel to it. And I adore it. However... Johto. Well. Johto is completely different. I don't know if I managed to encapsulate my feelings of the region in this poem, but I tried.

Thoughts on this poem would be greatly appreciated. I would also like to know what your own feelings on Pokemon regions are; which region are you most harmonized with? What do you love about that place? Why? **Please leave me a review letting me know.** As always, I value your constructive criticism!

Thank you.


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